


It Takes Two to Tango

by dyingpoet



Series: aziraphale and crowley get the domesticity they deserve [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale's Bookshop, Fluff, Flustered Aziraphale (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 19:10:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19302010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyingpoet/pseuds/dyingpoet
Summary: An angel and a demon with 6000 years of subtext decide to learn how to dance one night. You can sort of see where this is going





	It Takes Two to Tango

**Author's Note:**

> my first good omens fic done as a commission for @formidablefanatic on tumblr!!!! hope it turned out :^)

Angels couldn’t dance, everyone knew this. Well, if they put in a bit more effort than they usually did they might be able to become somewhat mediocre, but they rarely did, and those that did never got the chance to show off because well, angel didn’t dance.

Demons on the other hand, danced probably a little too much, bordering on compulsively. It would be easier to stomach if they were good at it, but thousands of years had gone by without improvement. It was actually said that one of the tortures of hell was having to watch all that dancing, nauseating really. 

However, Crowley and Aziraphale generally sort of failed at doing what was expected of them as angels and demons respectively, so here they were in the bookshop on a Saturday night, trying to learn how to dance.

“The  _ hell  _ are you doing with your feet?”

Aziraphale looked at Crowley’s frown before looking back down at his feet, splayed rather awkwardly to the side. “Well this is how I danced the-”

“If you talk about the gavotte one more time I really am going to have to hurt you,” Crowley growled, taking a swig from what had become an uncountable number of wine bottles they’d gone through. “I mean, it isn’t bloody Germany anymore.”

Aziraphale raised his head and leaned forward a bit in his defense. “It wasn’t Germany, it was France, and you might know that if you were listening instead of giving useless advice that was barely even comprehensible.”

Crowley rolled his eyes before pushing himself up and off the chair. “My advice was completely and one hundred percent compositional-”

“Comprehensible.”

“Comprehensible,” Crowley continued without skipping a beat. “And if you weren’t so focused on fifteenth century France or whenever the hell it was, you might have learned something.”

Aziriphale repositioned his feet. “I very much doubt that.”

Unimpressed, Crowley watched Aziriphale try and sway a little bit, having graduated from his head bob of an hour ago. It was sort of pathetic to watch actually.

“Oh c’mon you aren’t putting any life into it,” Crowley drawled, moving to stand next to him and mimicking his sway. It was subpar. “Like me, see I’m an absolute natural. You need to move your hips more.”

Aziraphale stumbled when Crowley bumped his hip with his, looking at the demon jerk gracelessly back and forth before reaching for the abandoned wine bottle. “This simply isn’t working.”

“Says you, I’m doing fucking fantastic,” Crowley said, grinning as he tried to do some sort of two step that flopped fantastically.

Choosing to say nothing when he very much didn’t have anything nice to say at all. Aziraphale looked around at the bookshop, almost deciding to call it quits when a certain poster he’d picked up just after the turn of the 19th century.

Oh yes that was a  _ wonderful  _ idea. 

“We can practice slow dancing!” Aziraphale nearly crooned. He walked quickly toward Crowley and grabbed both of his shoulders, angling him toward the poster. “It’s perfect and simple and so completely human.”

Crowley groaned and leaned back into Aziraphale, turning his head to look at the angel and letting out what one might have considered a whine. “How do you always manage to find the most numb-skullingly boring thing in every situation and fixate on it?”

“Just lucky I guess,” Aziraphale quipped, turning Crowley around so that he could look at the couple on the poster for reference. “Okay, you have to put your hands on my waist.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m leading.”

“ _ You’re _ leading? Why the hell should you be the one to lead?”

“Because it was  _ my  _ idea.”

Crowley grumbled a bit before moving his hands to Aziraphale’s waist. “Yeah that’s right, did I mention the numb-skullingly boring bit yet?”

“As a matter of fact yes, you did,” Aziraphale said as he adjusted his hands on Crowley’s shoulders. “Okay, now I think that we can start out with just swaying back and forth every so slightly, and then work our way up from there. At least that’s what I think the picture is showing.”

They tried that for a moment, Aziraphale stepping on Crowley’s feet about ten times before the demon brought them to a halt. “Okay stop, you’re doing it wrong.”

“I’m doing it wrong? How could I possibly be the one doing it wrong when I was the one to suggest it in the first place?” Aziraphale asked, mouth agape slightly in a mixture of incredulousness and annoyance. “What could you be doing that I’m not?”

“You’re too tense,” Crowley said, kicking Aziraphale’s feet back with his own so they were farther apart. “You’re focusing too much on getting it perfect, just move back and forth without thinking.”

There was a look on Aziraphale’s face that told Crowley exactly what he thought about the concept of not thinking. But at Crowley’s increasingly impatient stare, he let out a sigh and snipped something under his breath about his dance partner, who pretended not to hear him. 

They got a good couple steps before Aziraphale rushed forward, and Crowley moved his hand from his waist to lift his chin up from where it was angled at the ground. 

“Don’t focus on your feet, it’s what’s screwing you.”

Aziraphale nodded and held eye contact with Crowley. “I have to admit something.”

“Drop your shoulders-admit what?” Crowley asked, tilting his head slightly as the moved a few steps right and back again.

“For a demon, you’re quite the superb partner.”

Crowley bit back a grin, a habit he’d picked up centuries ago, and frowned instead. “Dance partner you mean?” 

Aziraphale bit his lip and lead them to the left, looking almost timidly at Crowley before continuing, “Well yes, that, but also just as a sort of general, life partner if you will.”

“Life partner?”

“Yes, you know, together through the thick and thin sort of thing, you know?” Aziraphale asked, apparently taking Crowley’s momentary silence as an invitation to continue talking. “Not that, you know, it means anything at all to you, because it might not and that would make perfectly logical sense and all-”

Crowley cut Aziraphale off with what was a very much overdue kiss on the lips before pulling back and trying and failing for the first time in centuries to hold back his grin. Aziraphale’s face was priceless in that moment, truly priceless. 

“Shut up, angel.”

It would be romantically pleasing to pretend like they didn’t spent the next thirty odd minutes arguing on which one had been more oblivious over the years, but that wouldn’t have been the truth.

Also, they both lost that argument. Six thousand years was completely a joint effort between the two of them. 

**Author's Note:**

> sdfbahd how did we think it went?? i cant tell im so tired rn
> 
> kudos/comments give me strength,,, and if u wanna commission me for some quality Garbage then the info is on my tumblr @dying-poet!!!


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